Not Fond of Asking
by May Sparrow
Summary: 1800s Swap AU. Conrad is a vampire hunter, and rumors lead him to believe  a certain Lord is one of the ilk he hunts. His job is to set the rumors straight. He might not like what he finds.


A/N: More RP shizz with Doma Yuset! Whoot! Anyway, it's really late at night posting this, not much to say. Just think 1800's guys. And kind of reverse AU. Yeah, AU. Conrad's a vampire hunter. Roll with it.

The name of the time is from the Kooks song Naive.

Warning: english speak, violence, some OOC but it's okay because we're in a different time and stuff

Disclaimer: all chars belong to Tessa Stone. I hope she's doing okay.

I am so tired.

**|.|.|.|.|**

The year was 1840. The Opium Wars has just begun. And Conrad Achenleck was a vampire hunter whose career centered around London, England.

He was a good man, who, despite his complaints, was very good at his job. True, he would have preferred to have been an artist of the time, but the Renaissance was a long time ago and hunting paid far better.

Not always was such the case, however. He was far too kind for his own good, he decided often. For here was a case that he'd be paid not a penny for, and would surely be punished for if things went wrong.

Conrad Achenleck had recently taken up the case of a prominent landowner, who went by the name of Abner VanSlyke. There were rumors, to say the least. Many rumors. And as was his duty, Conrad was to investigate.

The most obvious approach to discovering if one was a vampire was to approach the suspect of vampirism and note their reactions to holy objects. But of course, this meant putting oneself in immediate danger, to the point of a weapon, an alibi, and an escape route being necessary at all times.

Nevertheless, as was stated, Conrad Achenleck knew what he was doing and, armed to the teeth with several hidden holy objects and a pistol within his coat, not to mention the stake hidden somewhere on his figure, he approached the home of the suspect late one night in the countryside. He approached the door, ready to ask audience with the man himself. He himself highly doubted the rumors to be true, but one could never be too sure.

The door opened slowly, revealing a well-dressed man considerably taller than the young hunter. The hunter naturally assumed it was the butler, his neck craning to meet eyes with the "servant".

"It's quite late. State your business quickly or I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave," the man spoke gruffly, a tone of complaint in his voice about the hour, but surprisingly a lack of exhaustion. His attire stated a lack of rest; rather, as much as any normal lord would wear at midday. Even so, he seemed to keep an odd distance from the doorway, almost unwilling approach any nearer than necessary to the odd man who chose to come in the middle of the night.

With a small, almost nervous cough, Conrad briefly went through his story once more and spoke, voice shaking slightly.

"Ah, um, please do forgive the hour. M-My name is Conrad Achenleck. I was travelling up to Marytown to meet with a relative, but my carriage has broken a wheel. Given the time, it's far too late to have it repaired, and I fear that if I continue my journey I may come across a highwayman. If I may ask your master to stay for the night? I've heard much about his good deeds, and it would be only for the night, I assure you!"

This excuse was one of his most used and most simple, easy to elaborate.

The hunter hadn't realized, however, just who he was speaking to. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, perhaps he was no good at his job, perhaps he hadn't been given enough information. But truly, one couldn't blame him for not expecting the realization rolling his way.

" _**I**_ hardly remember doing any 'good deeds', at least none worth repeating," the taller man spoke, making it clear that he was not, in fact, a servant of Lord Van Slyke but the man himself.

"You're mistaken. My name is Abner Van Slyke, head of the household." He held the shorter's gaze for a while longer before finally stepping aside, gesturing that he may in fact enter the household.

Conrad blinked in surprise upon the realization that he had, in fact, been speaking to the lord and not some lowly servant. Well, that was embarrassing. He stuttered unsurely, apologies on his tongue, excuses that he had never been very sociable, when the master stepped aside and he found himself entering the man's home. He tipped his hat at Van Slyke, eyes on the floor.

"A-Ah, forgive me, sir. I'd no idea. Y-You're very courteous," the hunter mumbled.

The lord spoke in a normal tone. "Forgive me, I'm not too used to having guests- especially one that comes so unannounced. So there isn't much prepared other then some whisky in the drawing room. Mr. Achenleck was it? Why don't you join me there before I show you to your room?" The man narrowed his eyes at the hunter, who missed the red tint revealed by the lamplight.

"Ah- whiskey? W-Well, I suppose. I would never become advantagous towards your household, of course."

Conrad felt uncomfortable, something felt very wrong, but he was so distracted by his own self-displeasure at behaving how he considered rudely to someone of a higher degree to define what it was.

Why the hell did he even take this job anyway?

Oh. That's right.

His _mother._

Abner looked over the disheveled young man, studying him closely.

"I must insist. Besides, you _must_ be exhausted after having to walk all this way." There was a heavy silence, during which time the door was shut.

And locked.

"Follow me then, and we can discuss arrangements for repairing your carriage."

"A-ah. Of course, sir." For once, it seemed, Conrad was not oblivious to the sound of a deadbolt falling in place. His nerves were sharp as he sensed in his gut something was very wrong. Hairs on his neck rising, the hunter prepared himself mentally to pull out his weapons at any moment. He followed the taller man stiffly, studying his surroundings for any possible means of an escape route. He found nothing but good taste in art and fashion.

Abner led him into the drawing room, a room where everything was set away in just exact locations, and cleaned so thoroughly, it would have seemed that the man was indeed waiting on a guest. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. The whisky was left in an unopened bottle, glasses untouched on a thin table in the corner. Despite it being a fresh and beautiful evening, the windows were shut and curtains drawn to a complete close, leaving no room for moonlight.

He gestured to chairs sitting before the lit fireplace for his guest to seat himself before walking to the table and pouring two glasses- during such there are sounds of the neck of the bottle tapping the rim of each glass twice, the sound of china bells ringing softly. Handing his guest one, he himself sat before the fire, not taking advantage of his drink, instead staring into the dark liquid with a rather serious expression.

Conrad had entered the room with uncertainty crawling up his spine, taking the offered seat and accepting the glass, but not drinking. He remained alert, frowning at the glass. If the lord suspected, he could try to poison the hunter. Drug him, even.

"What have you in means of protection? If you are aware of highway men, why would you so foolishly go and travel in the dank of night?"

He redirected his frown to the fire at that. Oh dear. More thinking now.

"The route from my home is long, as I have been riding since noon. I'd hoped to come across an inn, perhaps an hour past. But as luck would have it, there were none in the area, and I was forced to continue and hope for any passing man to have mercy on a poor soul such as myself. I've not many possessions, I'm not an important man."

Once more, he stared at his glass as though it had said something to irritate him. There were times, of course, when he felt the statement was true. He wasn't all that important to society, not really.

Not to himself, anyway.

"I've not much for defense, save a small knife or two, but I left those back in the carriage," he added to his story.

"That was rather foolish of you, leaving behind your only form of protection." The lord swirled the whisky in his glass, resting his free elbow on the armrest.

"Well, it's not very far from here." The hunter sounded sheepish, almost as though he were receiving a scolding.

He glanced back up at Conrad, expression sharp, but not truly a glare. The taller man studied his companion once more. "You seem rather... nervous." His tone was monotone, almost robotic.

Conrad blinked, staring into the liquid in his untouched glass.

"D-Do I? I haven't been feeling well lately—in fact, I was visiting my family for hopes of clearing my head."

For a brief moment, he slipped his hand into his coat, gripping the rosary by his breast and asking the God that may or may not have existed for forgiveness for his lies and for strength in learning the nature of his host.

An idea struck him, and he looked up then to meet the eyes of his host. They looked red in the firelight—were they? "Pardon my questioning, but do you have family, sir?"

The question was for both personal and professional reasons; a vampire would not have had family for a very long time, and the hunter was just genuinely curious, as one who never was happy with his own mother.

The lord had an expression that was growing undeniably into a glare. "_That_ is a rather personal question, don't you agree Mr. Achenleck? For someone that claims to know of my non-existent deeds, and knows nothing else? And just so happens to wander almost blindly onto the property without intent?"

He set the glass aside.

"Do I appear like a fool to you Mr. Achenleck?"

Conrad's eyes furrowed deeply for a moment, grip on the glass tightening slightly. "No. No you do not. Perhaps then I should cut to the chase."

He straightened suddenly, the nervous expression vanishing, expression turning far more like that of his host, sharp and serious.

"I've not told you what I do for a living, have I? Perhaps now would be a suitable time." Reaching into his coat, Conrad pulled out the rosary he had previously been clutching tightly.

"I, good sir, am a vampire hunter. As such, it is my duty to remove the world of bloodsucking monsters. Or, at least, to rid England of monsters."

Holding the rosary up in a tight fist, he continued to speak, eyes locked on his host.

"With such knowledge in mind, _good sir_, please note all the rumors in the area of a well dressed man of the like; that is, a vampire. I am here merely to put the rumors to rest and, if they be true, put the beast to rest. Which brings me to my final question. "

The rosary swung out towards the man seated before him. The hunter's eyes were cold obsidian stone as he continued to grip the forgotten beverage.

"Are you, Mr. Van Slyke, a vampire?"

The man visibly recoiled from the rosary, fingers digging into the fabric of his chair. His expression had turned to one of fury, his teeth bared slightly, revealing a sharp pair of canines.

"A tall accusation Mr. Achenleck. A foul fate would await you whether you be correct or _not._" He raised his hand, snapping his fingers once.

Out of the darkness came a white blur—a cat? It bounded onto Conrad's chair from behind, sliding on and off his shoulders before hitting the carpet, the golden chain of the rosary in its teeth. Not a cat, but a weasel—no, a _ferret_, the hunter realized as it slid back into the darkness, most likely to dispose of his trinket.

The lord stood to full height, leering at the man across from him, expression ugly. "You have this, a single chance to leave this place _without_ your heart shred to pieces- I cannot, however, say the same for your reputation!"

The hunter was obviously surprised, afraid even, just for a moment, the glass in his hand slipping and falling, the drink spilling to the ground as his eyes rose to meet the man's—the _vampire's_. The man was fall too tall for his comfort, indeed.

But the rosary surely wasn't the only trick up his sleeve. Clearing his face of emotion, he stood to face his opponent. "Forgive me, good sir—because you are a good sir, unlike any I've seen—but I cannot do that. You see, I swore to someone important to me that I would do this, that I wouldn't stop. Ever."

For a moment, his eyes slid back to the soiled floor. "Oh, forgive me. I've made a mess." Hands free now, his dominant one slid back into his coat to finger the small revolver with silver bullets, tugging it out with ease. "Perhaps we should make this as quick and clean as possible."

The vampire hardly seemed to hear him over the clatter of glass against carpet, over the splashes of liquor, over the screams of the carpet that called to him, telling him to ignore the foolish boy and _clean it right __**now**_.

He was no idiot, however, and knew well enough to set his priorities in order, and returned his gaze to the gun being held to his face.

"You've made a terrible mistake Mr. Achenleck." That said, the lord's eyes turned bright with ferocity, suddenly far too fast and strong to possibly be human or even resemble it. His arms shot out, crossing the short span between the two men and grasped Conrad by the wrists, pinning him to the bordering wall of the fireplace. Such actions revealed the pair of white gloves the vampire wore, the thin layer separating the two men's skin from meeting.

"And you lied to me about being unarmed," he hissed, their faces uncomfortably close.

Conrad's teeth were grit in irritation and some pain from the grip. "Nngh." He stared back into the cool eyes coolly, not even bothering to struggle, realizing it would be to no avail. "Of course I lied. I was for my own safety."

The hunter brought his knee up into the vampire's vulnerable area between his legs. A dirty trick, yes, but it had the desired effect.

"_Hungh-!_" the vampire's grip loosened slightly as he crouched over in pain.

Conrad pushed back in that small pane of time, yanking himself free from his taller's grip, the revolver still in his hand.

He took careful aim at the crouched-over creature, reaching into his coat once more and pulling out his sturdy stake. He still had the ferret to worry about, he realized, but it would be the least of his problems, and once he was free and clear of his Lordship, he could just forget about it.

Thoughts aside, he focused once more on the man in front of him. "I _am_ terribly sorry about this. I assure you—" he pulled back the safety on the revolver and held back the stake"—it's nothing personal."

_BANG._

_Fin._


End file.
